


mal[evoL]ence

by tome



Category: NieR: Automata (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Existential Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Breakdown, Spoilers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 00:50:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13178832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tome/pseuds/tome
Summary: Dissonance. Horror. Comfort. Loneliness. Stability. Sorrow. Anxiety. Uncertainty.It was for those reasons YoRHa No.9 Type S, 9S, Nines, had existence thrust upon him without his consent.





	mal[evoL]ence

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: 9S is one confused and ANGERY boy.
> 
> Don't read this if you have not beaten the game yet. Go finish it. Now.
> 
> Also, please be warned that this takes place sometime in Route C, so 9S isn't going to be cute, nor will his smile be protected (though it absolutely should be).
> 
> Content is pretty serious and heavy. Also perhaps kind of pretentious. You've been warned.

God made His creation in His image.

Symmetry. Fingers. Thumbs. Muscles. Blood. Pulse. Life. Death.

Those were the simple things. Anything could be like this, God reasoned. There is more to likeness than physicality. What set Him apart from other life? He dove deep into Himself to perfect His idea of creation.

Loyalty. Honor. Kindness. Brotherhood. Jealousy. Community. Delight. Bloodlust. Curiosity. Love. Desire. Fear. Hatred. Pleasure. Agony. Wisdom. Joy. Hope. Despair. Disgust.

All without understanding these things Himself. And, to keep true to His likeness, He ensured they too would never find the answers, no matter how much data they gleaned and processed. No creation could nor should surpass Him.

He watched His creation stumble its awkward first steps with a curious yet aloof attitude, though He had barely struggled to complete His own.

Many grasped onto anything they could reach to balance themselves--some parts reached back to God, some to love, some to war, and some to His other creations. Others chose not to reach for anything at all, stumbling until they fell into an abyss of meaninglessness, finding their refuge in oblivion.

And after cursing them with complexity, God died.

His creation wailed like a sickly infant begging for its parents to save it. Those who had managed to find their own version of balance grasped onto it tighter, not daring to take another step forward out of fear of never having support again. They lived for it and died in its name.

Those who had found meaning in the God who abandoned them were some of the most stubborn compared to the rest of His creation. To them, standing still until He came back to guide them with his white-and-red-striped cane was their only option.

Dissonance. Horror. Comfort. Loneliness. Stability. Sorrow. Anxiety. Uncertainty.

It was for those reasons YoRHa No.9 Type S, 9S, Nines, had existence thrust upon him without his consent.

The blindfold to hide him from the truth. The collar around his neck to remind him his existence is owned.

The single real, tangible, beautiful Thing in his life that gave his existence meaning, being designed and placed there specifically to end it.

It was all to make a few people, who weren't him, feel better.

As he stared at the fresh corpses of the deranged YoRHa units, dead for a cause that never needed to exist, all 9S could do was laugh. And laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

How many times did he die for the truth? How many androids died for their lie?

Hahahaha.

Absolutely _fucking_ hilarious.

He laughed until his vocal processors could only output static, and laughed a little more.

And then, as they always have and always will, his thoughts went back to Her. His Light, and most precious, closest Treasure. His Her.

9S had read old stories from before the war, of love, desire, and closeness. He knew of it, and even heard of other androids feeling such a thing for each other.

At one point, 9S could say with honesty and accuracy that he loved Her. But, even if all of the feelings of those books and experiences combined and multiplied a trillion-fold, they would never compare to what 9S felt for Her right now.

His existence in its entirety was to meet Her, die by Her hand, and meet Her again. It was the natural order in this fucking hilarious world, though he always began the cycle anew completely unaware.

Both of them, trapped in an existence they never asked for. A situation that made no sense. Only having the presence and comfort of each other to know how fucked up it was.

And like the first God to His children, She was ripped from him as well. Yes, _ripped_ from his grasp, _stolen_ from his world by someone who did not deserve to _know Her name_ , let alone be the one to return Her to the cycle.

That was for _him_. _Him alone._ It was _his_ natural order. He was the only one fit for the job of having Her blood on anyone's hands. And that _fucking cunt A2 stole that from him._

9S’s memories of Her are all that matter in the world to him. Every moment he wasn't hunting down _that disgusting, insufferable whore_ was spent inside his mind. Touching the images of Her face. Reliving what it felt like to simply look at Her. Cherishing her voice and her smells. Imagining what her lips tasted like.

Humans had a method of processing death and loss called “grieving.” 9S did not understand what it exactly did for them, especially the methods that involved worshipping false deities of long-dead religions, but it somehow helped them “get through” their loss.

9S didn't want to get through. He never wanted to stop sobbing Her name. He never wanted to let the pain of never being able to touch Her again heal. He never wanted to care about anything else again. His memories of Her were all that he needed and craved.

And yet…

He realized they were incomplete.

Another thing stolen from his life. Stolen by Her.

9S often wondered what memories She had that She took from him. He wondered how many times She smiled, how many times She said his name, how often they made eye contact. He wondered if they ever touched--surely he was not the only iteration of 9S to fall so deeply for Her. He wondered if they ever fucked.

And now She was fucking dead and gone and never coming back, those precious memories taken from him forever. Those answers will never be found.

 _Selfish fucking Monster._ What audacity She had to take everything from him time and  time again, only to leave without his permission.

As he looked at Her face in his memories, in reality only fragments of their time together, 9S felt his blood boil. Any sight of Her bleeding, in pain, begging for him, he found delight in despite his jealousy towards those who caused it. He found himself screaming for what felt like hours, “FUCK YOU, YOU _BITCH!_ ” She was lower than machines. Lower than A2. Filth. Mud beneath his feet. Garbage to be disposed. Spat upon.

She will always be Her, but his memories are his treasure.

But every single line of his code craved Her. Her touch that no longer existed. His adoration was more than he could bear. 9S grovelled at the images of Her, crying out “ _P-please…I need you…_ ”

Wailing like a sickly infant, begging Her to save him.

9S _needed_ to **** Her. For being so beautiful, so selfish, so kind, so cruel. He needed to **** Her, and he will never get the chance. Take, take, take, take. When will he ever get what he needs?

He stared at the rock She last stood on with dead eyes, his mouth slightly agape. He processed nothing, he felt nothing. He barely breathed.

An hour passed, and 9S collapsed onto his back. Exhaustion was the first feeling he managed to process. He didn't give a shit. The next was wanting to **** Her. He tucked that away for later.

The third was awe.

9S blinked, and found himself consciously paying attention to the sky above him. He lifted his visor from his eyes.

Bright azure, cloudless, shining with the unmoving sun. A flock of sparrows flew overhead. Two butterflies danced around him. A gentle breeze flicked his hair and the skin of his cheeks. Cicadas screeched their swansongs in the distant forest.

A world so tainted, yet so beautiful. Tears fell freely from his eyes and he let out a pathetic whimper. How dare beauty exist without Her to witness it. How dare he witness it without Her.

No. _How dare he exist without Her._

9S let out a guttural sob.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you don't know, a white-and-red-striped cane indicates the user is deaf and blind.


End file.
